


Legacy Revisited

by Anonymous



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Immortality, Interspecies Relationship(s), Kissing, M/M, Not Beta Read, Public Display of Affection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 19:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20822468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It's been months since Peter and Rocket embraced their romantic feelings for each other; longer since Peter used his Celestial powers to transform Rocket's cybernetics into an organic, healthy body. It's about time for the two of them to find out how exactly what they've become.





	Legacy Revisited

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Legacy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11560947) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 

> Hiya! Is this confusing? The original "Legacy" series (linked above) was orphaned some time ago, but I started to miss Roquill and felt that there were more stories to tell in this AU. The timeline I use has always been scrambled, so it's not necessary to read anything in any particular order, but if you're not familiar with "Legacy" I'd recommend skimming through it rather than starting with this chapter.

A message had come through the ship’s computer in the night, delayed by their passage through the first port of the journey. Peter noticed it when it had already been opened, and was in the middle of reading it when Gamora joined him in the cockpit and asked if he could alter their flight path.

He responded by instantly entering the new coordinates, then turned to her without bothering to finish reading the message. “So, Nebula wants to join us again,” he said with a smile.

Gamora’s return smile was big and vibrant. “It’s been so long I was starting to think she’d -- well, the important thing is that she’s okay. But she’s been alone all this time. Sometimes she doesn’t seem like she even considers herself a Guardian.”

“Not completely alone,” Peter reminded her. “She and Kraglin were traveling together for a while.”

“They still are. And they’re parting on good terms. She says so at the end of that letter.”

Peter nodded, glancing back at it. “I get what you mean, though. She never even answered when we told her what I could do.” He drummed his fingers on the armrest, thinking about the twist of fate that had allowed him to heal Rocket, and his petition to do the same for Gamora and Nebula. “If we talk about it in person maybe she’ll reconsider.”

Gamora hesitated, then sat down in the other pilot’s seat. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Especially now that we know the side effect.”

“What side effect?” Peter asked, alarmed. As far as he knew, Rocket had never been healthier -- physically _or_ mentally, thanks to the subconscious counselling that he had received. 

“Your link to him. How Mantis sent you into his mind? Nebula won’t like that idea any more than I did.”

Peter frowned. “It’s not like I would go poking around in your head for fun. I didn’t even know I _could_ use it to connect with Rocket until Mantis figured it out.”

Gamora fixed him with a serious look. “Yes, and what else don’t you know about it?”

There was something about that question that made Peter want to avoid it. He wouldn’t have used the Light on Rocket if he had thought it would harm him: permission or not, last resort or not, that just wasn’t something he could have lived with. But it was also true that he hadn’t really known what would happen, and just because it had turned out better than they’d hoped didn’t mean there were no other consequences waiting to be revealed.

Not long after defeating Ego, Peter had discovered more or less by accident that he could heal his own injuries by concentrating on them. One by one, the team had come to him with minor afflictions, and he had cured them all in the same way, marveling at his ability as if it were a fun new party trick. Gamora hadn’t objected to losing a deep cut on her arm when they thought that was the maximum that he could achieve, but she had declined in no uncertain terms when he had reshaped Rocket’s cybernetics and offered to do the same for her. She didn’t need it, she said, and she didn’t want to make any unnecessary changes to her body.

He supposed she was right in thinking that Nebula would have the same mentality, but after all, Gamora had been wrong about her sister before. The extent of Nebula’s implants and prosthetics was much greater than Gamora’s, and everyone knew she hated them. Peter suspected she was in constant pain. He would have liked to change that. “She’s got a lot in common with Rocket,” he mused out loud. “Maybe if she talks to him…”

“Maybe if who talks to me?” Rocket’s voice preceded him ambling in, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Who changed the flight path coordinates? How old is the coffee in the kitchen?”

“Good morning!” Peter beamed. Rocket was wearing one of his t-shirts, which reached past his knees and made Peter want to pull him into his lap and cuddle the living daylights out of him and just deal with the resultant wounds later. He resisted, like he always did when someone else was around to witness it, but didn’t shake off his upbeat tone. “We’re going to pick up Nebula. I think we should talk her into letting me un-cyborg-ify her. Gamora thinks no. What do you think?”

Rocket stood roughly halfway between them, looking back and forth with his mouth slightly agape, although Gamora hadn’t even said anything. Finally he spluttered, “You wanna use the Light again? On _Nebula?_ The hell are you smokin’, Pete?”

“Right,” said Gamora, but then stopped, apparently too unsure about why he was agreeing with her to back up his argument.

“You got _god powers_, you idiot! You don’t just go slingin’ around god powers like free money! Buckle up and act like the d’ast feeble human you half-are. Flark. It’s too early for this. Someone answer the coffee question.”

Gamora stood up, sighing. “I’ll go get you some, Rocket. It sounds like this is turning into a conversation for the two of you.”

“Gamora!” Peter exclaimed, then chewed his lip while she turned and waited. “Um. Can you get me some too?”

Once she had left the cockpit, Rocket kept Peter in suspense for a few moments, staying put with his arms crossed against his chest. Peter stuck his tongue out. “You still haven’t said good morning.”

“I never say good morning,” Rocket retorted, but he came over and hoisted himself into Peter’s lap. “This is heavy shit, Pete,” he said as Peter slid a hand up the back of the t-shirt to stroke him beneath it. “I don’t regret it, but it ain’t gonna be the same for Nebula as it is for me.”

“Because of the link? The link doesn’t do anything unless Mantis activates it.”

“Mantis ain’t the only empath in the galaxy. Point is, it’s there. She found it, she didn’t invent it. She said you put the Light in me.”

Peter frowned and shifted Rocket to one side so he could stretch out a hand beside him. He rubbed his thumb and fingers together, flicked his wrist, and snapped several times while Rocket watched in bemusement and then said, “What the everlovin’ crap are you doin’?”

Having made the point as much as he could, Peter withdrew his hand. “I don’t have Ego’s powers. I’ve tried again and again and again, but I can’t call up a teensy flicker of Light, let alone build anything with it. All I’ve been able to do is heal people and convert your cybernetics. It’s not the same thing at all.”

“Yeah, so who’s gonna teach you to use it?”

Peter shrugged. “Trial and error.”

Rocket dropped his head against Peter’s chest, looking up with just his eyes. His voice was gentler than usual. “Not a big fan of experimentation.”

It took a few seconds for that to sink in. Peter completed the hug he already had halfway around Rocket, burying his face in his fur. “You want to try to look into it?” he asked.

“I think we oughta,” said Rocket, leaning into the hug. 

Before Peter was ready to let him go, they heard the sound of Gamora’s returning footsteps, and Rocket leaped nimbly from Peter’s lap and settled in the seat across from him. He was always like that about public displays of affection, even with Gamora, who knew all about their relationship. Actually, the only exceptions that Peter could remember had been when only total strangers were there to witness. 

Gamora handed a hot mug to each of them, smiling calmly and not asking any questions about what they had been discussing. Rocket harrumphed. “You gave Quill the better cup,” he accused.

“I’m her favorite,” Peter informed him.

Gamora rolled her eyes. “I’m so glad Nebula’s coming. You males have outnumbered us long enough.”

//////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\//////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\//////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

“Can I tell him you’re my boyfriend?” Peter asked hopefully. He and Rocket were strolling through the largest city on Zaarba, on one of many streets blocked off to vehicles so that the constant festivities wouldn’t be interrupted. It was here that they were to meet with an unusual specialist, one who could delve into their psychophysiology and explain the changes that Peter’s new powers had wrought in each of them.

Rocket flicked his ears back. “That word is so stupid,” he grumbled, hands shoved deep in his pockets and tail held out stiffly behind him.

“Well what word do you like better? Mate? Lover? Partner? The Legendary Star-Lord’s nice piece of--”

“You don’t gotta tell him nothing. It’s not like he’s gonna ask.”

Peter tried to shrug off his disappointment. Lots of people didn’t like labels on their relationships, after all. Eventually, maybe he would get Rocket to enjoy being half of an official couple outside of their own home, but that wasn’t what today was about anyway. He shook his head at a vendor in flamboyant clothing trying to sell him something round and glowing. “If he does, that means you’re the one who has to answer.”

“Whatever. Turn left here.” Rocket pointed in front of them. “I think that’s the place.”

The place looked like a circus tent from the outside, which wasn’t unusual for the neighborhood, but inside the walls were solid, made of metal and wood. A receptionist of some indeterminate species and gender took their information and told them to wait, and a few minutes later, the specialist walked in.

Peter rose from the bench where they had been seated, and to his surprise and pleasure, Rocket jumped up to perch on his shoulder. Extending his hand and trusting Rocket to balance himself out, Peter introduced both of them in a confident tone and sized the man up.

He was of another unfamiliar race, but looked very close to human aside from his silvery-grey skin and sharply pointed ears. He didn’t smile as he clasped Peter’s hand, and he gave both him and Rocket the barest of nods before gesturing at a desk off to the side with two chairs in front of it. “I am Crovoks Igrel,” he said in a monotone, pushing up the sleeves of his midnight blue robes as he pulled out his own chair across from them. “I understand you are the progeny of a Celestial, Peter Quill.”

“Biologically, yeah.” Peter lowered himself into his chair, noting from his peripheral vision that Rocket was in one of the same size and that it wasn’t adjustable. “He was evil and we whooped his ass and he’s dead now, but I guess I picked up some superpowers? We heard you could find out what exactly they are.”

Crovoks nodded, though his eyes were on a digital file he had pulled up on a one-sided holoscreen. “You advised my associate that you could repair damaged tissue and convert prosthetic implants to organic matter.”

Peter had to think before confirming that he had said that when calling to make the appointment, but Rocket was quicker: “Uh-huh. He did it to me and all my metal hardware fell out.”

“I’ll need DNA samples from each of you,” said Crovoks with no further preamble. 

“Like, blood?” Peter frowned. Rocket was phobic about having his blood drawn, among other things. “Right now?”

“Hair will do. You can collect it yourself. Place it on these dishes.”

He also gave them a pair of scissors, and sat waiting rather then leaving them to it, so Peter went ahead and snipped a curly lock from the side of his head. He dropped it onto the clear plastic plate and passed the scissors to Rocket, who looked at them with extreme distaste but didn’t protest before removing a clump of fur from the tip of his tail.

Crovoks snapped a lid over each of the samples and instructed Peter and Rocket to wait. As soon as they were alone, Peter’s hand automatically drifted over to stroke Rocket’s head, which earned him a warning growl -- apparently, by Rocket’s standards they weren’t alone enough. He retracted his hand with a resigned shrug and attempted conversation instead. “So, you think Nebula and Kraglin have a thing, or are they just friends?”

“Nebula ain’t into dick,” Rocket replied indifferently.

“She’s never said that.”

“She ain’t. Anyway, what do you care? This some kinda humie thing, always nosin’ around everyone else’s screw habits?”

If it had been anyone but Rocket in such an irritable mood, it would have probably rubbed off on Peter by now, but forgiving his raccoon lover’s asperity had become second nature. “Maybe it is. I’m just curious. Just like people get curious about you and me.”

Rocket made no response but a twitch of his whiskers, but a moment later he began grooming himself and sending long intermittent stares at the door where Crovoks had disappeared, and Peter realized something: Rocket was nervous. Not scared, but nervous. He must have had some doubts about the results of the test, concerns that he hadn’t shared with Peter.

When the psychophysiologist returned, humorless and disinterested as before, he was carrying an information tablet and scanning through its contents, only looking up from it when he had sat back down across from Peter and Rocket. He cleared his throat once and asked Peter, “What is the relationship between the two of you?”

Peter contained his guffaw and limited himself to a self-satisfied smirk at Rocket, who was visibly dismayed at his bluff being called. After a beat of silence, Peter pressed for clarification: “You mean like, is he my boyfriend?”

Crovoks gave a startled blink, the most emotion that Peter had seen from him so far. “Of course not. I would never imply that you would engage in sexual activity with a lower life form.”

For the space of a breath, nobody seemed capable of saying a word. Crovoks was still sitting there, hand on his tablet, eyebrow lifted as if to question how Peter could be so stunned by someone casually reducing the love of his life to an inferior being. Then the shock passed, replaced by fury. Peter opened his mouth to let out a piece of his mind--

\--and found it blocked by Rocket’s face, tongue twisting around his own, fangs pressing into his lips. Peter’s laugh of sudden delight was swallowed in Rocket’s onslaught of passion. He gave back as good as he got, pulling Rocket fully onto his lap and cradling the back of his furry head. There was an edge of anger to the kiss, on both sides, and Peter liked it that way. Let Crovoks see this, let him figure out how to feel about their relationship. Making out with Rocket was a fresh fierce joy every time, and Peter wasn’t going to waste a single second of it.

As if at a distance, he heard a disgusted voice saying, “I’ll assume you still want your results, since you’ve paid for them. You can collect the documents at reception.” Then there was the sound of a chair being pushed out, and Crovoks walking away.

When Rocket finally released Peter’s mouth, both of them were panting. Peter rested his forehead against Rocket’s cheek and smiled into his fur. “Thanks. That was way better than anything I would have come up with.”

“It don’t mean you can call me your boyfriend,” came the husky reply.

The receptionist was too polite to ask why their discussion session with the specialist had been so brief. They handed Peter a tablet, which he and Rocket took outside to read somewhere away from Crovoks Igrel’s presence. Somewhere that could be their own place, if only for an hour or two. Somewhere, as Rocket demanded, that sold beer.

//////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\//////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\//////////\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

It took longer to order the drinks than it did to find the relevant information in the file. Peter was vaguely aware that he had left a full glass untouched on the table, but by then he was halfway down the block, mind buzzing, trying to make sense of what he had just read about the Light inside him. The Light that was now inside Rocket too. The Light that he had wanted to inflict on Gamora and Nebula and everyone else he loved.

“Wait up,” called Rocket’s voice from a few paces behind him. “Hey! Slow down, dimwit!”

Peter didn’t slow down. Peter didn’t want to slow down. He had just received the worst news of his life, and in his opinion, walking fast and trying to find a way out of Zaarba’s labyrinthine center was a pretty damn acceptable way to panic.

“Stop ignoring me, you freakin’ assclown,” Rocket growled. He was getting closer. Peter considered speeding up again, but it wasn’t likely to help. Rocket could not only outrun him, but could get around all of these stupid market stalls and overdressed shoppers a lot more easily than him. “Quill! _Calm. Down!_”

Exasperated, Peter stopped and whirled around to face him. “No! Just leave me alone for five minutes, Rocket, geez! I don’t want to be calm and I don’t want to be immortal and I don’t need you following me around calling me names!”

“I’ll call you whatever you’re damn well actin’ like! Right now I’m thinkin’ ‘whiny brat’.” He looked genuinely angry. “We just found out we’re gonna outlive everyone who matters to us, by maybe entire millennia, and you think you need to be _alone_?”

All of Peter’s indignation drained right out of him. He took a stumbling step back, looked around himself, and found a low stone wall to sit down on. People kept streaming by, but none came close -- except for Rocket, who put both hands onto one of his knees and fixed his gaze on his face.

When Peter found his voice again it was shakier than it had been. “I can’t believe Ego’s still wreaking havoc on me even after he’s dead.” Bitterly he reflected that this was the second time he’d been told he would live forever, and the first time, it had been the best news of his life. So much had changed. He put his hand over Rocket’s. “I can’t believe I could do this to _you._”

Before answering, Rocket did the last thing that Peter had expected and hoisted himself up so he was perched on his lap. “Idiot,” he said with immeasurable kindness. “You an’ me ain’t even got a bone to pick, okay?”

Realizing that he meant it, that he was accepting his fate without an ounce of resentment, was an emotional overload that Peter couldn’t handle. He held Rocket to his chest and sobbed into his fur, oblivious to the pedestrians still milling around, and Rocket let him do it without a single protest.

“I don’t know who I am,” Peter mumbled.

“Quit tryin’ to put a label on everything,” he heard whispered at his ear. Rocket sighed and licked his cheek and added, “Stupid idiot.” It was the sweetest name Peter had ever been called.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've tried writing as an Anonymous, but I'm fairly sure that feedback will work the same as it does with any other story, and of course I'll be just as happy to get it as any other author would.


End file.
